Hector the Victorious
by Underwater Owl
Summary: When Hector decides to face Achilles, what is he thinking about? And even if he loses, how will he be remembered, as a man who was defeated, or something else?


Hector the Victorious

It was the hardest thing I ever did, going out those gates that day. Achilles yelled and yelled. Calling me out, over and over and I knew, in my soul, that if I didn't go, he would wait for me at the gates of hell.

I am destined for hell, now. I am a soldier, I have always been. But now I'm a murderer too. I killed that boy. I may have thought it was Achilles, but I killed him. And so I accepted the hand fate had dealt me. Clotho, you made my string strong and true. I have never had cause to doubt you. Lachesis, you most of all I thank. You wove me a path into the tapestry of life that brought me to my love. My Andromache, who cries now, weeping at the end Atropos has cut out for me.

I remember sitting, with the sun shining down on me, and seeing my wife with tears running down her face. My son, our son, is clasped in her arms, and I know that it is the last time I will see him. I will die, and so will he. He will go to heaven or hell, depending on what kind of a man he is. Something else I'll not be able to influence. All he'll know of me was that his father died, a long time ago.

But his father is going to go down fighting.

How can I be so certain I am going to die? Why do I know this? Going into this war I was full of hope, with my family strong around me. The Greeks were coming, and my God was on our side. And now, when our God seems to have turned a blind eye, I will do what he asks.

Apollo demands a sacrifice, and I will gladly die, for Andromache, for my son, for my family, and for Troy.

I exit the gates, imagining Andromache's face. Is she crying? Is she holding in her tears? Will she watch me die?

I know I'm going to die. So does she, on some level, I imagine. It's always been decided. I wasn't even the first to know. The first man to know of my death was a warrior. He looked me in the eye on the field of battle, panting, holding his sword limply, and looking at me in a kind of resigned sadness. And then he spoke those fateful words.

Odysseus was the first to tell me of Achilles' relation to the boy/man. When I returned to the city, I learned more and more, and I became more and more certain.

His protégé. His pupil. His friend. My death blow was predestined.

I look at Achilles, standing before me, and see the grief in his eyes. I'll fight this man. He'll be the last one for me, in a long life of war. And one murder. My broken family is high above me now, Paris, whom all call a coward, who clung to my ankle only a few hours ago. Paris, watch your brave brother now. I'll die where you wouldn't and Andromache will weep for me, while your Helen still has you, brave, noble Paris. Paris, who all his life had to make choices, between fighting and power, between knowledge, and between loves. You chose to fritter away your life wooing, bringing home trophies, like Helen, the most costly one of all. You're about to become noble, whether you like it or not. Responsibility is the hardest master of all.

Helen, beautiful Helen. I pity you, girl. You have brought these deaths, all these men, with you illicit love of my misguided brother. I've done my best for you, and for him, and I would have, and will, it seems, died for you.

Priam, father. There are none so blind as those who will not see. See my death now, and remember this. Listen to your sons, father. Even if you do not love us, trust us, for you have raised us well. Did you love me? I have memories of your pride, your sword, your training for the days when I _will be king. _ Where are those days now?

Briseis, wherever you may be, be happy. In life or death, don't mourn me, please. I die for you. For you and Troy.

Andromache, my love. Take our son, keep him safe, and keep him out of Troy. I die for this city, I die for you, and I die for him. My one regret now is that I won't see you in heaven, for where you are surely bound. I'll see darkness, then the faintest hint of light, then a ferry man, waiting at the river Styx. I'll be in hell, where Achilles sends me. And I'll wait for him there, and we can fight each other like we do now, with his blade swinging faster and faster, moving impossibly quickly, for an eternity.

I'm tiring now; the sword in my hand seems to be getting heavier and heavier. Achilles has triumph in his eyes, and I try not to think of what will happen to my body after my death. Achilles wants to rob me of more than my life. He wants my dignity, now, as well. And as the sword swings towards me one last time, and my arms are too leaden to block it, I think of Andromache.

And it connects.

I was wrong. I see a light, with blurs of red and orange, and the sun glares. My last sight will be of the sun, of Apollo. Apollo who watches my die, here on these bloody beaches. Watching, along with the Trojans, and the Greeks, and Odysseus, and Agamemnon. Watching with Priam, Helen and Paris, and Andromache, and my little son. Watching as I die for all I believe in. For Troy.

And I die.


End file.
